Ground from Grace
by TheTimeWeaver
Summary: Dean Winchester, kicked out of college and living on the streets, is looking for a job-anything to keep him afloat without having to tell his father that he was expelled. What he finds, however, is better than what he could have expected.
1. Chapter 1

Every day seemed to be ordinary to Castiel Novak since he moved to Chicago. He ground coffee beans and swept up the small café he worked in every night to stay on his feet, and every cent of his weekly paycheck went into the apartment he rented - directly above the café. It was never very busy; the visitors were mostly men in business coats stopping in for the free (not for himself) Wi-Fi, and a cup of the daily special or a bagel. They would sit a good distance away from one another, carrying on their own private business meetings. Sounds of tapping shoes and clicking keys echoed inside, and everyone would be sipping slowly at their skim mochas as soft music played in the background. He had to admit that it was really dull, but it was the consistency that he loved. No surprises, no conflict, just quiet, everyday people. Sure, his landlord was a jackass. His pay sucked, the heat didn't work in the apartment, and he was usually hungry. But it was a home for him, and that meant he belonged somewhere, which was what he needed.

Dean Winchester was looking for somewhere to belong as well. He never really belonged, not at home with his dad, not in college, not with his ex girlfriend, Lisa. That's what brought him into Ground from Grace's coffee shop on that Thursday afternoon. The place was basically empty, albeit a few older couples and some hoity-toity businessmen in full on douche apparel. He stepped up to the counter, his thumb pushing itself into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Can I speak with the manager?" He said to the back of a man who he assumed to be an employee. A scrawny looking boy with blue eyes and dark hair turned to him.

"Yeah, give me a moment." Dean was shocked by the gravelly voice blue eyes possessed. It seemed odd and out of place, yet it fit him, as did the deep bags under his tired eyes. The boys fingers beat out the rhythm of something much faster paced than whatever was playing in the background. Dean was too busy studying blue eyes to realize that a larger man with thinning hair had stepped out from the back.

"Yes?" He said, annoyed. Dean retracted a bit, trying to seem appropriate for a place so, err, calm. It was a bit out of his comfort zone. Maybe a lot out of it, but he needed a job, anything for the time being. "What do you need?" The manager's face seemed kind, but his voice was sharp, crisp, and angry. Dean's eyes searched for a nametag, but came back empty handed.

"I came in to ask about a job. I noticed the sign on the door a few days ago. I've tried calling, left a couple of voicemails." Dean tried to sound gentle, even though he knew that he was often mistaken for being, as his father put it, 'a cocky know-it-all' who really didn't know that much.

"I received no such thing." Dean swallowed the lump in his throat down and tried to look calm.

"That's why I came in today, Mister, uh..." Damn it. This was already falling flat. Dean was convinced he was making a fool of himself. Who was he kidding; he wasn't even going to get a job at this shitty café. The Laundromat even fucking kicked him out today for 'loitering'. He didn't know standing inside and out of the rain was a crime.

"Just call me Zachariah. Broom's over there. Get started." Dean stood there for a moment processing this, trying to think of something to say. "Any time now, princess."

"Oh, thank you sir, I-" Dean was cut off by blue eyes coming back in.

"Ey Cassie, looks like you got a promotion. Don't fuck this up." Blue eyes nodded silently at his boss and he moved quickly behind the counter. Dean already hated this Zachariah guy; he seemed like a real creep.

After 3 days of working at Ground from Grace, Dean still knew nothing about blue eyes. He knew his name was Castiel, that he'd been working here for about 3 months, and that he always stayed late (well, that's what he assumed, since when Dean leaves at 7 he's always still there.). However, after the three days of silence, Dean had enough.

"Hey, Castiel. Did I say that right? Cas-tea-elll?" He smiled as blue eyes looked up at him in surprise, like he wasn't used to being acknowledged by anyone.

"Yes, that is how you say my name. Not quite as much emphasis though. It is simply Castiel. Nothing special." Blue eyes muttered, and went back to packing everything up from the day of little-to-no douchebag businessmen. Dean frowned at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Not with a name like that, Castiel. That name sounds like the name of a king or some shit. You can't just sit here and tell me that it's nothing special." Dean pulled one of his grins. "Sounds pretty special to me." Dean winked, and went back to work.

Castiel continued sweeping up, but a slight smile crept it's way onto his face. He liked how Dean looked at him, like he was someone.


	2. Chapter 2

Things went on the same for another week without any real conversation between the two, other than the occasional grumbling about Zachariah. Castiel would occasionally ask Dean about his life, and what he was doing working here, but Dean would always change the subject. He was intrigued by Dean, by the amulet around his neck, the scars on him that he tried to keep covered, and the bruises that seemed to keep reappearing on him. But if asked, Dean brushed everything off.

"Ey Cas, c'mere for a second." Dean said as they were cleaning up. "Why do you always stay here so late every night?" He smiled, he liked being called Cas, it suited him.

"I live here, just upstairs. Zachariah lets me rent the loft above the shop" Cas said, a little confused as to why Dean was asking. But then he realized. He had been noticing small things that Dean would say or do. Whenever a topic that contained anything to do with home was brought up, Dean immediately changed the subject, his expression forcing an 'I've not a care in the world' smile. It made sense now.

"Oh, really? That's pretty cool."

"I don't, um. I don't know your living situation, Dean," he said, his voice rough. "but I wanted to say that if you need somewhere to stay, a roof over your head, I live right upstairs." Cas hoped that his suspicions were right as to not embarrass himself.

"Nah man, I've got this great place on the other side of town." Dean said quickly, lying through his teeth. Cas raised his eyebrow, knowing immediately that he wasn't telling the truth. "No, really, it's fine."

"Dean." Cas said, and Dean stopped in his tracks. The way that Cas said his name sent chills down his spine. It was so rough, but behind it Dean could feel the kindness it held.

"Okay." Dean had no idea where that came from, he never asked for help. That's how he was raised. He wasn't supposed to need help from others, he could take care of himself.

"What do you mean, okay?" Cas was once again confused.

"I mean I'll stay, if it's okay with you.." He said, more gently than before. Cas smiled.

"Of course it's okay." Dean smiled back, trying to ignore the feelings of shame that were rising up. He was grateful, it's just that he wasn't used to accepting charity. He could picture his dad already, telling him what a burden he was. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and got back to work.

After Zachariah left, they finished cleaning up the store and locked up, and then headed upstairs. Cas unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, and held it open for Dean.

"Well, this is home. It's not much,but it's what I have." Cas said, realizing what a mess he'd left it in. "Do you need to go out and grab any of your things?" Dean motioned to himself, shaking his head.

"This is everything I own, right here." Cas felt a pang of guilt for not offering sooner. Dean noticed the look in his eyes, and smiled. "No, really Cas, it's okay."

"Alright Dean, well, I'm going to set up the couch for you, is that okay?"

"That'd be fantastic. Would you mind if I showered?" Dean said, noticing the bathroom in the corner of the room.

"Go for it, just let me know if you need anything." Cas said, smiling. He was glad to have company, someone to talk to. He was tired of being alone all the time. Dean went into the bathroom, and after Cas heard the shower go on, he started cleaning up. He brought one of his pillows out, and put it on the couch, and left two afghans hung over the side of it. He slipped open the bathroom door and put a towel on the sink, and then grabbed a pen, and scrawled a note on the back of a grocery list.

_Went to bed, food and beer in the fridge. Feel free to help yourself. Also, jiggle the handle on the toilet after flushing, stupid thing will just keep running if you don't. Sleep well._

He left it on top of the towel before heading to his room, and crawling into bed. He hoped that Dean would feel welcome, because he knew how important that was.

Dean heard the bathroom door creak open, and listened as Cas breathed slowly, and he felt the man's eyes on him, running over his body through the distorted glass door of the shower. He listened to the sound of scribbling on the table, and heard Cas take a deep breath and close the door behind him again. Dean let out a sigh, not realizing he was holding his breath. He turned off the water, and stood there for a moment, his hair slick against his forehead and water running down his body in little rivets until he was somewhat dry.

He stepped out of the small shower and noticed the towel on the sink. He smiled, and dried off slowly, watching his movements in the foggy mirror. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, and the bruises on his body stood out more in the florescent lighting in the bathroom. He winced as he thought of the fight he got into last night at the bar. He bet his weeks pay for a pool game, saying he'd never really played before. When he beat the guys, they decided to beat the shit out of him, collect their money, and take the little that he had as well.

Dean's rough hands pulled on his boxers and T-shirt, and he grabbed the rest of his clothes and headed out into the main area of the small apartment. He read over the note Cas left, and smiled at the notion of beer. He sat on the couch, beer in hand, and decided that maybe accepting a little charity wasn't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean didn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. His recent favorite had been the bench underneath the awning at a grocery store, but he quickly became too ashamed when he ran into someone that he used to know in school. He was thankful that he left before a real conversation had started. He may be able to pull off the 'I don't care' look, but he was just as insecure as others when it came to failure. His father had trained him that way.

Anxiety filled Dean as his thoughts raced to his dad, his chest tightened. He knew that it was inevitable that John would discover what had happened - Dean was removed from the school. Too many parties, too little effort gone into his actual school work. He failed his first marking period, and since he didn't do much to improve for the second one, he was dropped at semester. He had a week to move off campus, and since then it's just been him. Well, until now.

He decided that he owed Cas for letting him stay, and needed some way to surprise him.

Cas woke up that morning to the smell of coffee and eggs, and Metallica plays on the small radio outside of his room. He threw on a pair of jeans, and left his room.

"Morning, blue eyes." Dean said, smiling. "Eggs, coffee, some decent tunes. Looked like you could use a pick me up." he slapped him on the back, humming along to the music.

"Dean, where'd you get the eggs..?" Cas said, knowing that his fridge consisted of beer, apple juice, and milk for cereal.

" Well. In case you haven't noticed, Cas, you live directly above a coffee shop with a fully stocked fridge." Dean said, putting eggs onto a plate. Cas's stomach growled audibly. "Hmm, that's exactly what I thought. Now eat up." Dean winked at him, and sat across from him at the small table next to the window. Cas grumbled and groaned about it, but still begrudgingly sat down. He couldn't help it; he hadn't had a warm breakfast since he'd moved into the place.

"Dean, we really shouldn't take food from downstairs, I could get kicked out. I don't have enough money to live anywhere else." Cas said, looking down at his plate.

"C'mon Cas, it'll be fine. It was just two eggs, and one pot of yesterday's coffee that I heated up on the stove, okay? Not a big deal. I just figured that you could use some actual food; you look like you're starving all the time. I mean, yeah, you got a roof over your head, but with the pay we get here, you must be barely scraping by. Let me help you." Dean smiled, and kept eating. Cas's shoulders relaxed a little bit, and he hesitantly took a bite of the eggs.

"Mm, damn these taste good." He mumbled in between bites. But then, his face fell serious again. "Dean, if this is a way of trying to pay me back for letting you stay here, you don't need to." he stopped to swallow his food. "It's a favor. You aren't in any way indebted to me."

"Yeah, the food is pretty damn good. Y'like your coffee black? I hope so, because I didn't nab any sugar." Dean said, already done with his eggs. He was good at changing the subject. Before Cas had a chance to interject, Dean was up cleaning up the dishes. At this point, Cas realized that Dean was just in a T-shirt and boxers, and looked really, and he meant _really_, good. As he leaned over the sink, his shirt pulled up revealing his lower back. His legs were toned and his arms, although bruised, were strong looking and attached to broad shoulders. His body was so beautifully and gracefully made, he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

"Hello? Earth to Cas." Dean said, trying to get his attention. He snapped his head upright, blushing slightly.

"Oh, gosh, sorry-I just zoned right out." He said, trying to cover his tracks. He looked down and kept eating, and missed the smile that crept onto Dean's face as he looked at Cas.

Dean could feel when people looked at him like that, and was always happy when he caught someone in the act of it. But with Castiel, it was different. He didn't look at him like some piece of ass that wanted him to notice, it was more subtle, but reserved-in the sense that it didn't make Dean feel the need to cover up. He was really starting to warm up to Cas, but Dean wasn't sure if it was in the way he originally thought it was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, just wanted to say sorry that the updates kinda take me a few days and also apologize for any mistakes I may have made, I don't have anyone to proofread. Reviews are greatly appreciated, so if you like it so far, let me know! Also, I know this chapter is short, but it didn't make sense to end it anywhere else. A bigger update is coming soon!**

**I hope this didn't interrupt the flow of the story for you! xxx**

The days have gone pretty normally since then. Dean and Cas have been growing closer, and the time spent working for Zachariah went by much quicker than it used to, for both Dean and Castiel. They truly enjoyed each others company, Cas most of all. Although he was never really one for being social, he also didn't enjoy being alone for so long.

Since Dean had, in a sense, moved in with Cas, he decided that he would help out with funds. Dean used all of his first check to get food for the apartment. He made it a priority to get up before Cas each morning, and make breakfast to start their day. They fell into a cozy little routine with each other.

"Hey, Dean, someone stopped by today looking for you." Cas said as he walked into the apartment that evening. Dean was splayed out on the couch, sick with the stomach flu. A bottle of diet sprite was next to him on the table, along with a pack of saltines that were hardly touched, and a bowl on the floor incase he couldn't make it to the bathroom.

"Mhm?" Dean mumbled, arm draped over his face.

"I think his name was John." Cas said casually, opening up the fridge to grab something small to eat. When he turned back around, the light was on in the bathroom and he could hear Dean's heaves over the toilet. Cas put down the tupperware bowl of mac n' cheese, and hesitantly walked to the bathroom.

"Dean...?" He said, opening the door slowly. His body was hung over the toilet, a groan escaping his mouth.

"Fuck. Cas, this isn't good." Dean wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, heart beating like crazy. Cas looked at him quizzically, and tilted his head slightly to the side. It reminded Dean of a puppy, and he probably would have commented on it if he hadn't been so scared.

"Dean?"

"You didn't tell him I worked here, did you?" Cas froze, feeling his stomach clench. "Cas?" Dean said, more urgency in his voice.

"I, um. Not exactly.." Cas started, but Dean cut him off.

"Cas, what the fuck?! Why the hell would you do that?" Dean yelled, his fist making contact with the mirror. It shattered on contact, and Cas's eyes widened at the sight of Dean's hand. Cas reached over, trying to help, but before he got the chance to do anything, they were interrupted by pounding on their door.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean's eyes widened in fear with every knock on the door.

"Dean, I..." Cas began, but was interrupted by another set of knocks.

"Open up the goddamned door!" Yelled a gruff voice that Dean was all too familiar with. "I said fucking open it!" Cas glanced over at Dean, searching for a sign of what to do.

Dean was crouched in front of the bath, his hand shaking. A gash ran up his palm and was bleeding profusely on the floor, but that seemed to be the least of his problems. The fear in Dean's eyes was something Cas couldn't even understand.

"I'll go get the door." Cas said, swallowing hard to keep his voice from wavering as the shouting continued.

"No, God. Cas, you didn't know. I'll handle this." He said, standing up and wincing as the glass in his palm shifted. Cas looked worriedly towards him, wishing he could do something. But fear had him frozen in place. Dean took a breath and ripped out the glass from his palm and wrapped it in a towel, before walking over and opening the door.

John's face was ragged, and his breath reeked of booze. His eyes were angry; angrier than Dean had seen them in a long time.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. At least, not before the first punch was thrown. His father's fist made contact with his jaw, and Cas heard Dean hit the ground. Cas looked on in horror.

"What in God's name has gotten into you, son?! I raise you well, and send you off to college, and you can't even do that right?" Dean winced as he stood up, and then took a step backwards.

"Listen, just because I'm not Stanford material like Sammy doesn't mean that I can do things on my own!" Dean yelled.

"Oh, is that so? Is that why you got your ass kicked out of college? Is that why you're living with this, this – dropout? You don't have a penny to your name. You make me sick." He spat, starting at Cas now. Dean stepped between them.

"Leave him out of this." Dean said firmly, stepping towards his father. John raised his eyebrow, and looked at his son with disgust.

Dean stood up straighter, ignoring the burning pain in his hand, and didn't budge. John looked him up and down, and then stepped back.

"Whatever. Just know that if you ever need anything, I ain't here, son." He said, before turning and slamming the door.

Dean turned to Cas, shaking from the whole event. Without having to say anything, Cas nodded reassuringly, and went to grab bandages for his hand. Dean sat on the couch silently, and watched as Cas tended to the gash in his palm. Cas was as gentle as he could be, wincing himself as he poured the peroxide onto Dean's hand, not wanting to hurt him. His long fingers moved gracefully over Dean's, wrapping the bandage tightly. After he finished, he let Dean's hand rest between the two of his for a minute, not able to will himself to pull away.

After a few moments, Dean became aware of the warmth surrounding his hand, and the soft touch of Cas's fingertips tracing his thumb. He pulled his hand back quickly, wincing as it pulled at his bandage.

"Sorry." Cas quickly stood up, cheeks flushed. His arm stretched around, hand resting on the back of his head in an attempt to play off the situation. Dean smiled.

"Don't be, it's fine." He said, patting Cas on the shoulder before heading to the bathroom to pick up the mirror.


End file.
